Second Sunrise
by Tasogare-Taichou
Summary: Pairings represented: IchiRuki, ShinYori, IshiHime, YoruKisu. Though these are the ones represented, they aren't actually what's featured.
1. Prologue

Hello and welcome to Second Sunrise, a fanfic collection. Second Sunrise is different from most of my other collections in that it centers more around my own original characters.

Anyone who has read any of my Genesis work, as well as the Dusty Gold series and anything from my 100 Points in Time collection will likely be familiar with my second generation Bleach characters, specifically the Kurosaki, Hirako, and Ishida families. Second Sunrise is a collection of oneshots done for the LJ community of OC-Challenge, all featuring these characters as the main protagonists. Among this collection, you will find stories about:

The Kurosaki kids: Kaien, Masaki, Hisana, Renji II

Hiyori and Shinji's children: Hiyourin, Shinji II

The Ishida offspring: Souken, Hanako

Urahara Yuusuke

Some stories deal with the eventual and current relationships between these kids, be they romantic, friendly, or familial. Some are just an amusing look at their personalities growing up.

The only two stories in this collection that do not specifically correspond to the Genesis canon are Trust Me and A Friendship of Opposites, because they feature Mirabelle the Fair, an OC created by a dear friend, and used with her permission. While not appearing in Genesis, Mirabelle has featured in many independent ideas and storylines between she and I, hence why I chose to illustrate a couple of those.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my work. ^__^


	2. Winter Violets

Title: Winter Violets  
Fandom: Bleach  
Characters: Urahara Yuusuke, Kurosaki Hisana  
Theme: Belief  
Rating: G

Disclaimer: While Bleach belongs to the wonderful and awesome Kubo-sensei, Hisana and Yuusuke belong to me and should you steal them I will hunt you down and eat your liver. Srsly.

"Do you miss her?"

It was a bit of a silly question, or at least that's what she thought to herself even as she spoke it, mentally chiding herself as she paused a few feet behind the figure half-sprawled across the soft grass, the shade cast by the tree casting shadows across ash-blond hair, crazy-quilt hat sitting discarded by his side. His mother had just left that morning, slipping out into the early morning dawn as seamless as a shadow

Yuusuke simply shrugged his shoulders, shifting slightly to prop himself up on his elbows and tilt his head back, looking back upside down at the dark-haired figure standing behind him, red and white uniform stark contrast to the vibrant greens and yellows of the landscape.

He didn't really like the uniform, but that didn't have much to do with the fact that he just thought Hisana would have looked better in something different. It was just another reminder of something rigid, something regulated. The way everything in Soul Society was, and the reason why Yuusuke couldn't really have cared less for it's trappings.

Sitting up, he shrugged again and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared out over the town, the faint traces of sun glinting through the trees reflecting off the single gold hoop in one ear. He honestly didn't mind her question, and if he'd known she thought it silly he would have told her that was quite to the contrary.

"Nah. Not really."

A lie and yet not a lie, but then that was often the way things went when the topic turned to the one person who by all rights should have been a part of his life. Should have been, and yet wasn't. His own mother. One dark-skinned hand simply patted the grass beside him, a simple and wordless invitation for her company, waiting as the slight figure in red and white moved to sit beside him, curtain of dark hair spilling down her back.

Settling her feet beneath her, Hisana simply nodded her head and sat down beside him, folding small hands in her lap. She never really knew what to say to Yuusuke, and despite what she may have liked to believe, the petite girl knew perfectly well that it had little to do with the fact that she was simply more soft-spoken than her siblings.

She caught his momentary glance at her attire, suddenly conscious of the fact that she'd neglected to slip back into her gigai before searching him out. Feeling her cheeks warm slightly, she once again scolded herself mentally for being in such a rush, for getting ahead of herself and not thinking. She was acting too much like her sister.

"Really? But doesn't it bother you that she's not...."

Trailing off, she snapped her mouth shut, suddenly embarrassed. It wasn't her place, wasn't her job to ask these sorts of things, to pry into Yuusuke's business like that. What if it were hurtful, what if she asked something that brought up painful memories? Biting her lower lip, she began to frame a polite apology in her mind, reminding herself of the lessons her uncle Byakuya had schooled her in that spoke of how a well-born young lady was supposed to conduct herself. Lessons the rest of her siblings seemed hell-bent on ignoring. And was promptly cut off even as she opened her mouth by Yuusuke's chuckle.

"Not like a normal mom? No. She's just the way she is, it doesn't bother me. Besides, I know she'll come back some time."

Another lie that wasn't quite a lie. Part of it was true. That his mother was the way she was, definitely. That she would come back at some point, certainly. But that it didn't bother him... well, that part was a bit less true. Only, it was hard for him to explain, which was perhaps why he was thankful to a degree that he never really had to explain things to Kaien's little sister. Hisana wasn't like her sister, she was easier to get along with. Oh he liked Masaki well enough, but the older Kurosaki twin just didn't have that deep calm within that he could always sense in Hisana.

It was that feeling that his father always grinned at whenever he mentioned it, giving him that grin that told Yuusuke that the shop-owner was either plotting, or privy to some information that his thirteen-year old son wasn't. Which was a bit disconcerting to Yuusuke, mostly because he had learned that things his father knew that he didn't usually ended up being somewhat embarrassing for the subjects of said knowledge. Like the times Jinta'd tried to convince himself he could hide the sake when Hirako or Isshin came visiting. Those times when the bottles had mysteriously disappeared before the redhead even got to them.

As it was, he knew his father, just as well as he knew his mother. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back to the first time he'd ever even _met_ the woman who'd given birth to him. Sure, he'd heard stories of her, his father and Tessai and the others always talking and telling tales of "Yoruichi-san" and her exploits. It had been the middle of the night, and he'd been woken by something -- a nightmare, he surmised -- and had padded his way out onto the porch in his PJs, blond hair askance, rubbing small dark fists into sleepy golden eyes, only to stop short in surprise at the sight of another pair of eyes that mimicked his so completely.

He'd simply blinked in surprise at first, not sure what to make of this lithe, female shape who'd stared at him with equally wide eyes, as though she herself wasn't quite certain that he was real. And then she'd smiled at him, albeit a little hesitantly, and squatted down in front of him to cock her dark head at him. He remembered the way she looked, the momentary thought that she was perhaps the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, with her dark tail of hair hanging over her shoulder in ebon waves in the dim light, golden eyes shining as she'd chuckled and ruffled his bangs with a grin, commenting that he must be Yuusuke.

That had been their first meeting, and he'd only later learned that the reason for her shocked expression had been the same one for the slightly wistful, almost regretful look in those eyes as her hand had rested on his head. As he'd learned later, when he asked his father, that the lovely and elusive woman was Shihouin Yoruichi. His mother.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he'd never really had a mother before. He'd always known he _had_ one, it certainly wasn't as though his father had tried to hide that fact. Nor were questions regarding her some sort of taboo subject,, rather they were the stuff of bedtime stories. In a way, his mother had become some sort of fantastical mirage. Something real and yet unreal, and such that when he'd finally met her he couldn't decide whether he believed in the reality or not.

Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that, as his father had explained to him, he was so much _like_ his mother. He'd always just ignored it, brushed it aside with a child's customary practice when he'd heard Kisuke comment absently how much his son resembled the one woman his had ever -- and would ever -- truly love, but now that he'd met her, he'd sensed it as well. A "sameness", a strange kinship as if she was perhaps the only person who might have understood the strange, often fey way that he had of moving and drifting with the wind.

Either way, he'd simply accepted his mother, and after the first time he'd asked his father why she didn't live with them, he'd never asked it again. It had been the look in Kisuke's eyes, that momentary flash of regret and something else before his father had smiled that same easy grin and laughingly commented that Shihouin Yoruichi hadn't ever really called anyplace "home" that had told him what he needed to know. That his mother, for reasons that were her own, made her home on the wind.

And that was part of what it came down to. That he couldn't rely on reason, that he couldn't really even rely on _her_. It all ultimately came down to one thing. Belief. Because that ultimately was all that he had. The belief that stood strong on the knowledge that, regardless of what anyone else may have thought, may have said... she loved him. And that, in her own way, she was being as much of a mother as she really could.

Others had tried to dissuade him, tried to convince him otherwise. He understood, at least he had when he'd gotten a little older. Understood that they only did it out of caring, out of concern for the possibility that he might pin his hopes on a fragile butterfly of a chance, a painted image of the three of them, sitting around the porch, one happy little family. Only to see that bright, hopeful image shatter into a million crystalline shards around him. But then... they obviously didn't know Yuusuke very well. If they had... then they'd know that of all the things he'd gotten from his father, an unshakable faith in Shihouin Yoruichi was resting right amidst the irrepressible charm and insatiable curiosity. She would come back. And he would believe in her.

"Yuusuke-kun?"

Yuusuke blinked golden eyes in momentary surprise as the soft voice drew him out of his momentary reverie. Glancing around, from Hisana's slightly concerned face to the sun that was significantly deeper in the sky than it had been, he realized with some surprise how long he must have been sitting there. Shaking his head, he grinned and shook his head.

"Ah, sorry. I spaced out for a moment, must have been boring for you."

Shaking her head, Hisana kept hazel eyes slightly downcast, fingers twisting slightly in the ties of her hakama. No, it hadn't been boring. Nothing Yuusuke said or did was ever really boring to her. If anything, she'd enjoyed simply sitting here in silence with him, watching him stare vacantly off into space, lost in his own thoughts that so excluded her. Granted, she'd have loved to be included in them, but that wasn't really so important. Mostly, she was just glad to be near him, quietly braiding chains of the little flowers that grew in clumps on the hill, the pile of winter-violet blooms that she'd gathered grown smaller as the minutes had ticked slowly by.

"No, it... I didn't mind."

And it was true, she didn't. Just as she never minded spending time with Yuusuke, stolen though she often felt it was. Carefully glancing to the side, she waited until he wasn't looking and slipped the braided crown of violets around the brim of his patched corduroy hat. Hopefully he wouldn't notice.

Whether he did or not, she'd have to keep guessing at, as he simply plunked one long-fingered hand down on top of the hat and picked it up, plopping it on top of his blond head with a typical Yuusuke grin before getting to his feet and sticking out a hand to her. Hisana stared at it for a moment, feeling her cheeks heat up as her eyes widened slightly. Before she could summon up voice to timidly refuse, he'd already grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet before turning and loping off, tossing a grin over his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go."

Hisana stood, frozen for just a moment before she simply nodded, hesitant smile on her face, and darted after him.


	3. Trust Me

Title: Trust Me  
Fandom: Bleach  
Characters: Kurosaki Kaien, Mirabelle the Fair  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters belong to Kubo Tite, I just borrow them for my own use. Kurosaki Kaien is my own creation, and I will eat your liver if you steal him. Mirabelle the Fair belongs to my close friend UtahimeLorelei, and is used with her gracious permission.

Even in the cool of night, the stillness of the pale white dunes beneath their eerie black sky was broken by little in the way of movement. Except for the occasional slip of motion across the moonlit sands as one or another small creature -- Hollows, all of them -- made their way through this world on endless quest for consumption and, in that, survival, there was little to suggest that _any_ sort of life inhabited the barren desert of Hueco Mundo.

Velvety in it's silence, the curtain of the night was broken only by the faint sound of screams in the distance as lesser Hollows met their demise at the hands of their stronger brethren. From Hollow to Gillian to Adjuchas and perhaps -- for those lucky enough to be gifted with the ability -- the lofty rank of Vastro Lorde. That was the way of things in this silent, sterile world of monochrome colours and stillness. Life -- if it could truly be called that -- consuming life in a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth.

It was into this still, soundless night that a flash of energy, a spark of colour emerged as the ragged slash grew, seemingly from the very air itself, ripping open the fabric of reality into a jagged maw. An arm stretched through, muscled yet still wiry with youth, as a shock of brilliant orange hair topping a teenage face set with violet eyes followed closely behind.

Glancing around, the boy pursed his lips for a moment, as though deep in thought before he shrugged somewhat non-commitally and lept through the opening, landing lightly on the balls of his feet, the long red corded tassel of his sword swinging with his motion as he remained crouched. Behind him, the rip in the dark sky of Hueco Mundo sealed itself as seamlessly as though it had never been.

Straightening up, Kaien cast indigo gaze across the still dunes with a sigh. Quiet. Finally. Shifting the long weight of Yamibari across his back, he pressed against the ground with the balls of his feet before he was airborne, slim black-clad form vaulting through the air to land lightly on the bone-white stone spire a scant few yards away. Plopping down, he crossed his legs, pulling Yamibari off of his shoulder, the sheathed blade balanced across his knees, chin resting on folded hands.

He _liked_ it here, despite the fact that he knew perfectly well that his peers -- couldn't really call them _friends_, except for maybe Yuusuke and Hiyourin -- as well as his parents -- _they_ were almost worse than the rest -- disapproved of his "unsuitable wanderings" into what they all considered enemy territory.

Kaien scoffed at that thought. Enemy territory, feh. Like the very world itself had some sort of label on it, and this part was bad and that part was good and things made so much black and white sense. Idiotic, as far as he was concerned. Hueco Mundo wasn't "evil". It was just a place, the same way Seireitei or Karakura or Rukongai was just a place.

The unseated shinigami -- vaizard, he was different from most of them -- wasn't about to mention his other opinions to his parental units OR to his superiors -- ironically enough, _still_ family members, in one way or another. Expressing "radical" ideas that Hueco Mundo shouldn't be feared, should be looked at as simply another place that perhaps they could actually co-exist with wasn't a practice that netted him much of a friendly response from the rest of the Gotei-13, he wasn't about to let on that he, unlike so many of the rest of them, didn't really even consider _Hollows_ to be evil.

Shifting, the teen flopped back onto his back, folding arms beneath orange head against the cool bone of the spire. Wasn't the whole point of _being_ a shinigami that one defeated Hollows in order to purify them? To release the combined souls and allow those souls to return to the cycle the way that all other souls did naturally? That sure matched better with what he'd learned in Academy than the idea of "Hollows are evil and must be dealt with accordingly".

He understood, to a degree, where those thoughts came from. Hollows were dangerous, they caused deaths and destruction and of course they couldn't necessarily be allowed to roam free. But how was that any different from any creature, any animal on the hunt for it's prey. Lions, hawks, alligators. All of them hunted, all of them killed in order to survive. Hollows did the same. They simply had the -- in Kaien's opinion -- misfortune to live by consuming a prey that the shinigami had decided to protect.

It was stupid, that's what it was. Stupid to decide that something had to be obliterated just because it might eat _you_. They didn't go into the jungles of Africa to kill tigers just because as far as the tiger was concerned, you'd make a good meal, so why did they seem to think it was any better to send scouting parties into Hueco Mundo to hunt down and destroy stronger Hollows?

Frowning as a sudden shadow crossed his closed eyelids, Kaien sighed and cracked open one eye to peer up at the white-clad figure looming over him, flaxen hair spilling over her shoulders, hands on her hips and pale eyebrows raised over sky-blue eyes in an amused expression. Yawning, he stretched slightly, sitting up and turning slightly to glance back over his shoulder at the woman.

"Hey, Mira-Mira."

The childish nickname seemed slightly out of place, especially when applied to any of the denizens of this world, most notably the woman standing over him with her mask remnant forming a bony coronet that fanned out like small wings on either side of her temples, the points poking through platinum hair in a spray of fine bone.

That was another thing he couldn't really talk about. His friendship with one of the very creatures he was supposed to be "dealing with". Moving to the side a bit as the arrancar took her place beside him, planting palms behind her on the sand and resting her weight on arms, her long hair pooling into a puddle of buttery silk on the sand.

"Decided to come for a visit again, Kaien?"

Chuckling slightly, the shinigami hooked his arms around his knees with a nod. Visiting. That was one word for it, not that he _didn't_ enjoy spending time with the arrancar who'd been one of his few companions as a child. It was just that his time spent in her world was as much an escape as it was a visit.

They'd met for the first time when he was only 4 or so, a solitary child playing in the driveway with a ball. Raised by parents who wanted him to know both worlds they lived in, he'd recognized the feel of reiatsu, the sense of _sameness_ in her and himself that his own vaizard reiatsu gave. Ball forgotten in his small hands, he'd simply stood at the edge of the street and watched as the gartantua had opened and her slender form stepped gracefully out into his world.

She'd realized after a moment that his level stare was one of comprehension, and that he could see her as well as she could see his human form. He wasn't like Hiyourin or Shinji, who'd never had a "real" body, being born of two spiritual entities. But either way, the arrancar -- Mirabelle, she'd later introduced herself as -- had been intrigued by this child who not only could see her but who _knew_ what she was and wasn't afraid because of it.

When she'd learned the name of the orange-haired, fey child who wanted to play with her, she'd understood the why of things. His parents -- most notably his father -- weren't at all unknown among those of the silent desert and so the name of Kurosaki itself had been enough to amuse her. As Kaien himself had done so.

He'd followed her that day, easily hopping through the gateway she opened, grateful to have a playmate who didn't think him "weird", and in who's company he didn't have to pretend in. And that had been the start. Amidst the initial demands of his parents that their son have nothing to do with an arrancar, Mirabelle the Fair had become his playmate, his babysitter, his adored Mira-Mira.

She'd played with him, indulged his whims, and trained the young vaizard long after his parents had come to the grudging realization that, in spite of what they thought, they couldn't stop it. At least, for their peace of mind, she'd made it clear that not only was she none of Aizen's get, but that she had no interest whatsoever in Kaien as a food source. And while trusting Arrancar went against nearly every fiber of their being, neither Rukia nor Ichigo could deny that their son had gained an erstwhile protector in a very unconventional guise.

Leaning back, he rested his back against her skirt-covered shins with a nod.

"Yeah, I guess so. Just fed up with their bullshit again. Kinda ironic they think _I'm_ a threat when I'm the one who's got the most "peaceful" relationship with this place of all."

She let out a laugh, almost more of a scoff, and shook her head, ruffling his bright hair with one hand.

"Feh, what do you expect? As far as they're concerned, there's no point in trying to see things from anything other than their own self-righteous point of view. Otherwise they wouldn't keep all of _you_ all crammed into one little place where they can keep an eye on you. Just like the way they look at all of _us_ the same, regardless of the situation."

Raising his eyebrows with a sigh, Kaien couldn't help but agree. It was true, that despite the fact his father held the same rank as the other captains in the Gotei-13, it was a well-known understanding that V-div -- the Seireitei Specialty 14th Division -- was little more than Yamamoto-Soutaichou's antiquated way of building a cage and keeping an eye on the anomalies. The Vaizard.

It all came down to trust, really. Or lack thereof, he amended in his mind, the lack of trust that Soutaichou and most of the Gotei-13 had in those like him. Well, not _quite_ like him. He'd been born a Vaizard, his Hollow already established. It hadn't been until the 12th division had discovered that a certain percentage of shinigami simply had the ability -- albeit lying dormant within them -- to access an inner-self the way he did that the division had truly been formed, thus providing a convenient answer to the question of what to do with the exiles -- not to mention his own father -- who were considered dangerous yet had still been so essential in that first pivotal battle.

"I know. They think we're all just walking time-bombs, ready to go off at any time. Hell, it's pure luck that Dad and Uncle Renji were able to argue Soutaichou into trading me out for a while. Heh, maybe it'll prove to them that we don't all NEED to be in V-div."

"Not likely, kid."

Rolling her eyes, she fingered the hilt of her zanpakutou. It was a nice enough thought, she supposed. The idea that the fascist, uptight "government" of Soul Society would ever give any sort of leeway to something that didn't fit, didn't mesh with their strict ideas for how things ought to be. The world was changing, but they were doing their damnedest to keep it from doing so. It was the same with her, with the others _like_ her.

They weren't all Aizen's. Not like most shinigami assumed them to be. Arrancar weren't anything _new_ to the world of Hueco Mundo, they weren't something that a rogue ex-captain shinigami had created. There had been Arrancar before Aizen Sousuke's time, those now called "privaron" by his ilk. Those who hadn't been _created_.

_She_ was one of those arrancar, one of the ones who had made the climb, up the ranks of Hollows from Hollow to Gillian and then to Adjuchas, where she'd found the strength to rip the porcelain bone from her face and take the form she now held. Arrancar. Those of the broken mask.

They had lived peacefully here, in their world. Until Aizen Sousuke had arrived, with his vaunted dreams of conquest. He'd made his _own_ arrancar, and those who had lived here, those to whom this place truly belonged, had been thrust to the sidelines. Hunted by shinigami and turncoat alike, the one assuming that she, like so many others, would stand behind the would-be god while the other seemed hellbent on bending every denizen of his new realm to his will.

And that was what the shinigami -- well, _most_ of them, anyway -- didn't understand. Glancing down at the orange head of the boy resting his back against her shins, she crooked the corner of her mouth in an almost smile. _He_ understood. But then, he himself was so different from the "norm" among his kind. Just like her. It was one of the reasons why she tolerated him. Why she _trusted_ him, and by a slim degree, trusted his family and a small number of his friends. Because he trusted her... _they_ tolerated her, would even consider fighting beside her. It was ironic, really. Fighting beside a shinigami.

Sighing slightly to herself with a faint chuckle, she ruffled Kaien's hair again and resumed her watching of Hueco Mundo's night. Yes, ultimately it all came down to trust.


	4. Realizations

Title: Realizations  
Fandom: Bleach  
Character/Pairing: Hirako Hiyourin  
Rating: PG  
Prompt: First  
Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters are copyright to Kubo Tite. Hiyourin and Kaien are both mine.

Hirako Hiyourin remembered with stark clarity the first time she'd ever encountered a Hollow. She'd been only two at the time, a young age where most memories retain a soap-bubble haze of rainbow colours and idyllic shimmer, but that memory stood out in harsh relief against the comfortable haze of familiarity like a splash of blood against a white floor. There had _been_ blood then, her father's as he'd snatched her out of harm's way in the nick of time when she'd realized that the monster which had appeared was there for _her_. She could remember it now, how frozen she'd been, terrified green eyes staring up at the laughing skull mask, so like and yet unlike the ones her parents and her aunts and uncles wore.

It had been the mask that had confused her at first. She knew what a Hollow was, but in her world they were things inside your mind, like the quiet voice she occasionally heard within her own subconsciousness. Laughing, mocking caricatures of familiar faces, painted in stark white and black, negative images invading her dreams and taunting her whenever she decided to steal into that pyramid-studded desert in her father's world or the bleak network of bridges and catwalks her mother's otherself inhabited. They were hollows, certainly, but they couldn't truly hurt her; their threats were empty when given, because she could simply leave.

She'd bounced the blue ball against the concrete hard, watching as it soared into the air only to watch in astonishment as an enormous clawed hand had reached out and speared her toy mid-air. The mocking laughter -- deeper, with less of an echoing quality than she was used to -- had started then, as the creature drew back it's limb, the azure rubber deflating with a high-pitched whine. Hiyourin, for all of her two years of age, hadn't felt fear at first, mostly just anger -- her father would remark later that perhaps she was _too_ much like her mother -- that it had ruined her brand-new ball. In fact, she'd even proceeded to plant tiny fists on her hips in righteous indignation.

The Hollow had stared at her for a moment before it had laughed again, a different, chilling sound as it carelessly flung the deflated remains of her ball aside and crouched, drawing back it's arm again. That had been the moment when she'd realized that this hollow wasn't like what she'd thought they were, and the fear had set in as she'd taken a hesitant step backwards in the face of it's malevolent laughter. Backing up as it had stalked her, she'd stumbled, falling with a scream and throwing her hands over her head as the creature pounced.

And then her father had been there, his strong arm catching her around the waist with bruising force as he'd snatched her from the ground mere seconds before the Hollow's claws perforated the cement of the sidewalk. She'd buried her face in his chest, barely noticing when the Hollow died with an agonized shriek only moments later and he was kneeling on the ground, holding her close and rocking her soothingly. His comforting voice had chased away the fear for the moment, but it left behind the other thing that Hiyourin had learned that day.

She'd learned to fear Hollows.

There were other firsts in her life, other events and markers spanning the length and breadth of her -- in her opinion -- oppressively long thirteen years; the first time -- that she could remember -- when she'd met another like her, another Vaizard other than her own family group. The day her father had gifted her with the pendant she always wore; it had been his, the small medal gifted to him to commemorate his promotion to captain in the Gotei-13. The day of the most explosive clash with her mother, when she'd announced her plan to pursue the path of a shinigami. Hiyori had reacted rather less well than she might have hoped, but at least they were civil again now. Her first day of academy, when she'd walked into a crowded lecture hall to a sea of staring faces only to stubbornly square her shoulders, set her jaw, and give them all a look to blister glass.

There were smaller firsts, as well. The day she'd made another enemy -- it was Kurosaki Masaki's _own_ problem if the girl hated Hiyourin, and her petite classmate could shove it as far as she was concerned. Her first attempt at kidou, and the pride she'd felt when she'd managed the spell with only a small amount of collateral. The day she'd learned her zanpakutou's name.

But none of those firsts stood out in her mind so much as the day she'd met Kurosaki Kaien again after 3 years; the day she'd fallen in love.

Really, she'd have said she _realized_ she was in love, as by her definition 'falling' was something that didn't happen with someone you'd known since you were a child, someone you'd always adored. But regardless of the definition, she couldn't deny the way she'd felt that day in academy when the three upperclassmen had shuffled into the room to stand at the front. The instructor's words had blurred as he went over the plan, telling them how they'd be going to the real world for the first time, to learn to deal with dummy hollows. All she could see was the slighter form standing beside the other two, brilliant orange hair a stark contrast to the familiar blue and white of his uniform, looking somehow so much older and different than the rather-quiet boy she'd always adored.

The whispers had started then -- not surprising, Kaien had made a name for himself from the time he was young, not only because of who his father was but for his own wealth of skill and talent -- and she'd found herself mentally filing them away, scoffing at the twitters and whispers of the other girls in her class about the 'genius Vaizard'. Kaien wasn't a genius. A prodigy, maybe, but even that was only because of his unnatural relationship with his Hollow.

They didn't know that, of course, but then they didn't know much of anything about Kurosaki Kaien. _They_ hadn't tagged along behind him on childhood outings, sullenly silent because they didn't know what to say. They hadn't kicked him because he'd been a typical boy and not appreciated the drawing she'd given him. They hadn't watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as he sat and talked to his Hollow the way one would talk to a dear friend. All they knew was _what_ he was; eldest son of the most controversial couple in Soul Society, Vaizard to his fingertips, an eerie balance of Hollow and shinigami that went even beyond what other Vaizard possessed. Heir-apparent to the noble Kuchiki clan, the unofficial next in line for Kurosaki Ichigo's position as captain of the 14th division.

She'd been able to shake herself out of the startlement at seeing him again -- it had only _been_ three years, it wasn't as though decades had passed -- long enough to hear that he'd be one of the upper-level students instructing them. Not surprising, she remembered thinking, as her green eyes had carefully studied him. His hair was a little longer, a little messier, though it was still a mimicry of his father's short, spiky style. His eyes had changed, their deep purple colour reflecting less of the solemn and enigmatic child he'd been and more of the man he would one day be. Her eyes drifted from his face to the slim black length of his unsealed zanpakutou resting crosswise against his shoulderblades. _That_ was probably another reason for the whispers. While most academy students learned their zanpakutou's name by the end of their first year, Kaien had learned Yamibari's name when he was 5. _She_ knew it was because his Hollow told him, but still. It just turned the rumor mill further, and the fact that Yamibari was a full-time shikai form certainly didn't help.

The instructor had finished talking then, turning to introduce the students to the class, and then... then Kaien had smiled. And she'd lost herself in those sparkling amethyst eyes, swallowing hard against a sudden wrench in her heart and a sudden, almost desperate longing to be the only one lucky enough to see that smile. It had caught her off-guard, as she'd hurriedly stared down at her feet in an attempt to hide the burning flush on her cheeks, the realization setting in like a splash of cold water. Three years may not have really been all that long, but it had been long enough to turn childhood fancy... into something more.


	5. What Dreams May Come

Title: What Dreams May Come  
Fandom: Bleach  
Character/Pairing: Kurosaki Kaien, Kurosaki Hisana  
Rating: G  
Prompt: Dreams  
Disclaimer: Kaien and Hisana are mine, while Bleach and it's associated canon characters belong to Kubo Tite. I merely borrow them.

Glancing at the clock, Hisana frowned, black brows drawing together over hazel eyes as she lifted the spoon to her lips to taste the sauce. Almost ready, it tasted fine, though it would need to simmer for another 20 minutes or so. Brushing a stray strand of ebony hair back from her face, she sighed and set the spoon down in the ceramic rest on the stove before placing the lid back on the pot. Turning back towards the living room, she untied the apron from around her waist, pulling the loop off of her neck and stepping into the doorway, brushing dust off of her purple sweater-dress.  
"Dinner's almost ready, I'll go find Kaien-nii."  
Her mother glanced up from the manga she was reading, violet eyes scanning the room for a moment as though Rukia hadn't even been aware of her eldest offspring's absence, before nodding. From the other chair there was a scoff as a near-identical head of black hair shifted and Masaki raised her head from the cushion, attention drawn from the TV as amethyst irises regarded her twin sister.  
"He's probably dawdling. He was _supposed_ to be back 20 minutes ago."  
Frowning, Hisana shook her head, mentally logging Masaki's complaint with the scores of other barbs and jibes against their older brother that her sister had already tossed at her. Masaki and Kaien had never gotten along -- friends of their family always remarked, rather amusedly, that watching the two elder Kurosaki siblings fight was almost like watching their parents in younger days -- and while Kaien was for the most part ambivalent, Masaki never seemed to miss the opportunity to land another hit on her brother.  
_She_ on the other hand, was very close to Kaien, and was carefully mindful of that relationship. Her mother had remarked one day, when Hisana had been much younger, that perhaps the reason the two of them got along so well was because Hisana the most out of all of her siblings _understood_ Kaien. Where Masaki was antagonistic, and Renji resentful, Hisana adored her mercurial elder brother, often content to simply be near him and just let him be the enigmatic and often moody boy that he was.  
Pulling her pale pink coat from the peg, Hisana tossed her hair over her shoulder, balancing against the doorframe as she slipped her feet into her boots.  
"I'll be back before dinner's done. The sauce just has to simmer. If the timer goes off before I get back, just turn off the burner."  
"Alright, burner off when it dings. Got it."  
Turning her head at the new voice, Hisana couldn't help the sigh of relief at seeing her father's familiar face. _He'd_ make certain the house didn't burn down and that nothing untowards happened to dinner. He reached out a large hand to ruffle his younger daughter's hair, the faintest ghost of a smile on his normally scowling face before he snagged the other apron -- the one that wasn't ruffled -- from the peg, tossing the strap over his head. He smirked, raising an eyebrow and nodding his head towards his wife and daughter sprawled on the furniture in front of the television, attention focused on the flashing colours and chirpy voices of the winter Chappy special they had both been waiting for. Raising his voice in an obvious ploy to aggravate them, he called over his shoulder.

"I'll take care of it because otherwise we'd have _blackened crispy mystery food_ for dinner."

Hisana watched as her mother and sister responded exactly as she'd have expected, giggling and ducking out the door as the familiar bickering started up again. Stepping carefully across the pebbled walkway her father had put in -- Ichigo had proven to have a surprisingly good eye for landscaping -- she mounted the staircase to the wooden back deck, reaching up to tug on the polished wood handle that hung down at roughly shoulder-level for her father and was barely within reach of her stretching fingertips. Her parents had put the handle at that height for the express purpose of keeping those too young to reach it _away_ from it. But... that was where Kaien was, despite what her sister was dead-set on insinuating.

Pressing lips together in concentration, Hisana stood up on tiptoe so she could curl her fingers around the handle before pulling on it, grunting slightly with the effort as the mechanism creaked and the ladder slid down. Once it's wooden feet were resting securely against the wood of the deck, she tossed her long braid of hair over her shoulders and climbed up, shivering slightly in the evening's chill. When she reached the top of the ladder, pulling herself carefully up onto the roof, her brother was exactly where she'd expected him to be. Sprawled on his back across the tiles, arms folded behind his orange head, staring up at the sky overhead. The loaf of french bread lay beside him, it's length still swathed in the plastic bag from the grocery store.

"Kaien-nii, dinner's almost ready."

Sighing slightly, the twelve-year old carefully made her way across the roof to sit down beside the lanky form of her brother, drawing knees up to her chest and looping sweater-clad arms around them. He was brooding again, something that he tended to do fairly often, his eyes that strange shade of teal they assumed when he'd been engaged in a rapt conversation with his Hollow. That was the one thing about her beloved Kaien-nii that Hisana felt she could never truly understand. Kaien didn't fear his Hollow, not the way she -- and to an extent, her mother -- feared their otherselves. To him, the Hollow was a partner, a companion, perhaps... even a friend. Brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Hisana leaned back slightly and watched the darkening sky, absently counting stars as she did so. Something was bothering her brother, that much was evident from the fact that he had barely acknowledged her presence since she'd sat down. Not that she really considered such things a problem. Of all of his siblings, she was the one that Kaien talked to the most, that he confided in. He'd talk to her.

Her confidence was rewarded after a few moments, as her brother sighed and shifted his weight, his eyes shifting back to their normal deep violet as he glanced at her, the momentary flash of fondness in his gaze dimmed by whatever was bothering him. Sitting up, he raked one hand through spiky orange fringe in a gesture that only served to make him look even more like their father.

"Hisana... you ever wonder what it'd be like to not ever have to worry about what other people think? What they want? What they think _you_ should do or be?"

She nodded slowly, already relatively certain where the source of his mood lay. Everyone knew -- or at least had some idea or opinion to the fact -- that Kurosaki Kaien was being groomed to one day succeed his father as captain of the Seireitei Specialty Fourteenth Division; V-div for short. Regardless of the fact that their father had never stated as much, and that neither parent had ever put any sort of pressure on their eldest child to perform accordingly, it was simply an understood fact.

But no one, at least not anyone that she knew of, had ever thought to ask _Kaien_ what he wanted out of his life.

"What do _you_ want to do, Kaien-nii?"

He shrugged, shoulders shifting beneath the brown and cream patterning of his sweater before he leaned back, resting his weight on his hands.

"I dunno, really. I guess I just... want to be me, you know? To not have to live up to anyone's expectations, or worry about what _other_ people think I should do. Just to be able to make my own choices, and do what's right for me."

He paused for a moment, as though contemplating even deeper.

"...I don't want to be Dad."

Sighing slightly, Hisana scooted closer, leaning over to rest her head against her brother's shoulder, the silver clip at the end of her braid clinking softly against the tiles of the roof. _She'd_ noticed it, even if no one else had; how intangible expectations -- even ones from people they didn't even know -- weighed on her brother's shoulders. How the unspoken understanding of what his future would entail only served to exacerbate the thick tensions between Kaien and their father. How his other siblings reacted to it; Masaki angry and standoffish that the brother she couldn't stand would be given such an important task, Renji hurt and resentful that the older brother in whose shadow he often found himself didn't even _want_ what Renji would have been overjoyed to have. And while their mother never seemed to have any specific designs on her offsprings' future, they all knew their father -- whether intentionally or not -- expected more from Kaien than he did his other children. Maybe it was simply because Kaien was the child with whom Ichigo had the most strained relationship and ironically... was the child most like him. Or perhaps it was simply because -- and she could say this without envy -- Kaien was the strongest of them. The most talented, the most capable. And in her opinion, he _would_ be the best choice for the role.

But that hardly mattered if it wasn't what Kaien wanted. Closing her eyes as her brother automatically draped an arm around her shoulders when she shivered from the night air, Hisana took a deep breath. It smelled like snow, even though the sky was still clear. She could hope, though, and she would do so, and maybe they would have a white Christmas this year.

"Kaien-nii.... I think you should be whatever you want to be. If you have dreams, then you should follow them, and not let anyone else tell you otherwise. Mom and Dad.... I don't think they'd ever make you do something that made you unhappy, so.... you shouldn't worry so much. Besides.... you're my big brother. I'll love you no matter what."

It wasn't much, and she wasn't really sure if it would help or not, but it seemed to as his mood lifted a bit and he smiled, tightening his arm around her shoulders for a moment before snagging the handles of the plastic bag. Climbing to his feet, he proffered a hand to her, pulling her to her feet as well.

"Thanks, Hisana."

Staring for a moment, her face broke into a wide smile as she nodded. Small or not, at least her words seemed to have helped.


	6. A Friendship of Opposites

Title: A Friendship of Opposites  
Fandom: Bleach  
Characters: Kurosaki Kaien, Mirabelle the Fair. Mentions of others.  
Rating: PG  
Theme: Friends  
Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters do not belong to me. Kurosaki Kaien, however, _does_. Mirabelle is the property of my friend UtahimeLorelei, and is used with her gracious permission.  
Summary: Unlike his siblings, Kaien has always had a hard time making friends and fitting in. But that's about to change. This is basically a little peek into how Kurosaki Kaien and Mirabelle the Fair met and ultimately became friends.

The pale brick-hued rubber ball caught the afternoon sun's light as it bounced, hard surface impacting against the heated blacktop of the road with a rhythmic echoing sound. A single small boy, spiky orange hair turned even brighter by the warm summer rays, followed along behind the ball at a slow pace, one small hand carefully catching and bouncing the toy in it's easy dribbling motion, violet eyes focused on his play.

Glancing up at the sudden sound of laughter, the ball forgotten in his hands, the child stood there watching as a clump of schoolchildren not much older than he ran by, giggling and kicking a ball ahead of them. He watched them for a moment before turning back to his solitary play, the ball once again bouncing evenly against the ground.

He wasn't like them, and not simply by virtue of the fact that he was still the "new kid" in town. He'd never really had friends, not the way that other children did, if only because there _weren't_ really any other children like himself. No one else who saw the things he did, and who _knew_ the things he did about the world.

Other children didn't understand the way things were, didn't understand that there wasn't just one world that they could see. He knew that, just as he knew that while he was in _this_ world he wasn't supposed to talk about the other ones. And while he didn't have a problem with that fact, neither did it make things easier when it came to explaining to his schoolmates why he sometimes stared off into -- in their words -- empty space, or why his eyes sometimes seemed to change colour. Whatever the reason, Kurosaki Kaien had a hard time fitting in at a normal human school.

It had been easier before, when they'd lived on the farm and his father's hair had been black and _no one_ had talked about the other world, that other place where the shinigami lived. He hadn't understood at the time, but at nearly 5 years old he knew now that they'd been in "exile". Exile wasn't a word he really knew, but he knew enough to understand that it meant his parents -- and therefore the rest of them -- were being chased by someone. That "exile" was why his father had changed his hair, in spite of what he always said about not caring what other people thought. It was why his mother had let her thick black hair grow long, and why neither he nor his sisters had really ever spent time anywhere other than the sprawling 5 acres that constituted the small farm.

There hadn't been any other kids around, and because he wasn't really even _allowed_ to leave their own little world it hadn't mattered. The only times he'd even seen other children his age had been those rare occasions when his mother would head into the nearby town to pick up things and take him along with her. It had always made his father upset, but he hadn't cared because his mother seemed to enjoy the trips and in Kaien's opinion, his mother shouldn't ever have to be anything but smiling.

He'd been _happy_ there, even without any other children around to play with, perhaps because it was all he'd ever known, and the concept of having friends and companions his own age was something he'd never really thought about. But whether that was the reason, or whether it had entirely more to do with the freedom he had, able to run fairly wild about the farm was anyone's guess. Even when he played with his mask, in spite of his mother's gentle yet consistent reminder that he shouldn't, there wasn't anyone there TO see.

Those were the days, though he couldn't remember them clearly, when he forgot what it felt like to be running. To be hiding from people he didn't even know, to see the fear in his mother's eyes, the anger in his father's face. The time in the big white house had been peaceful. It was where he'd sat on the porch swing watching his mother pull the outer green husk off of the big ears of corn, eating strawberries from the basket by her side. It was where he'd become a big brother the day that his grandfather had shown up out of nowhere and his dad had taken him out to the tire swing and pushed him for an hour, telling him that if he behaved he'd be a big brother when they went back inside and those were the times where his mother would come into his room at night, just before tucking him in, and set a jar of fireflies on his windowsill to shed their soft faint sparkle into the darkness of his bedroom.

But those days had ended in a riot of chaos and fear. _That_ day he could remember. The day he'd been out in the field with his mother, picking strawberries and he'd suddenly seen her face change as her head shot up and she'd stared in horror at something he couldn't see, but could _feel_. He could remember the bright red of the strawberries spilling across the ground with the abandoned basket as she'd snatched him up and ran, voice shrill as she'd screamed for his father. He could see the dark shapes as they'd ran, slipping like shadows over the roof, could _feel_ what he'd later learn was called reiatsu crashing into another feeling that he recognized as his father. And then everything had become a mesh of sounds and flashes, all twisted together with worry and fear and panic, anchored by the feel of his mother's arms tight around him as she'd clutched he and his sisters close and then all of a sudden there was a pulse of _something_ and an explosion of light and sound and strange feelings and then the man with the striped hat was there, ushering them down hallways and through doors at speeds that were dizzying.

He didn't understand much of what had happened in the months after that, only that his mother had seldom let any of them out of her sight and that his father didn't join them. And then there came one day where the man with the striped hat -- Urahara, he'd later learned -- had been there again, his shaded face serious as he'd spoken in hushed voices with Kurosaki Rukia, the latter's face painted with a mixture of what Kaien later came to understand was rage and determination. And for the first, and only time in his short life that he could remember, Kaien saw his mother wear the mask willingly.

The days after that had been a blur, as his mother brought his father back home with her and then they were running again, fleeing through the nights the same as it had been before. Night after night after night of running and sudden changes and fear, until they'd once again slowed, settled. Found another place, another "home", and he'd been able to go outside again as long as his mother was with him. The fact that he could have gone out with his father was a moot point. He didn't like his father, considered him the primary reason why they'd had to leave home in the first place, the reason why his mother had to worry.

They'd spent several more months like that, living peacefully until that peace had been shattered. Those months were even hazier, and he didn't like remembering what life had been like without the normally ever-present figure of his mother. But it was alright, ok because she was home now, home where she belonged. It had been during that haze that things had changed, that the letter had come. On thick paper, written with something that made his father growl when he'd seen it, it had been the same sort of face that his father had made the last time his uncle visited. But whatever the paper was, they'd stopped running, they'd gone back to Karakura, and his father had started wearing the long white coat and going to the other world again.

That had been 3 months ago, and now that everything was "settled", as far as his parents were concerned, their lives had returned to almost the same sense of normalcy that had been there before, in the big white house. The only real difference was that now, because they weren't hiding, weren't running anymore, there were other people around. Other children, who were something of a fascination to him as much as they were a puzzlement. Masaki and Hisana, young enough to adapt easier, had already made several friends while their older brother just couldn't seem to click with anyone his own age.

Somewhat bored, seeing as there weren't any other children running by to watch, nor were there any wandering spirits to talk to, Kaien simply took to counting the sharp impacts of the ball against the warm concrete of the sidewalk. Chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, he pressed harder against the ball, his efforts rewarded as the sphere of rubber smacked harder against the pavement and bounced even further, it's form getting away from him as it bounced off down the sidewalk a few feet. Darting after it, the boy caught up with his toy only to stop, his head turning up curiously towards the sky.

He _knew_ that feeling, and yet.... he didn't know it. His young mind easily supplied the fact that the feeling was reiatsu, something he'd felt numerous times since he could remember. It also willingly offered up the knowledge that the energy he could feel belonged neither to his parents nor to any of the other small number of recognizable signatures in his repertoire. Uncle Shinji, Aunt Hiyori, Uncle Renji, Uncle Byakuya, Grandpa... even the strange prickly sensation that he recognized as "Quincy"; none of them matched the swirl of spiritual pressure that drifted on the wind. It was similar to some of them, similar to his father as well, but... _different_ somehow.

Keeping amethyst eyes trained on the sky above, Kaien simply watched as the sky seemed to crumple, as though a giant fist was grabbing the very fabric of the atmosphere itself before a rip opened in the middle of the sky, giving way to blackness beyond. A slim, white-clothed arm was the first thing to come through the hole in the sky, followed closely thereafter by the rest of a strange, fair-haired woman, the side of her torso marked by an odd hole that he could see all the way through, platinum hair ornamented simply by a strange broken coronet of white bone that fanned out on either side at her temples like small wings.

She didn't seem to care much that she'd just come walking out of the sky, but Kaien wasn't really surprised at that. After all, plenty of other people in his life came walking out of strange places. The woman, whoever she was, was obviously a spiritual entity, seeing as the other people passing occasionally on the street as she settled into a crouch on the roof didn't seem to notice her in the slightest, which suited Kaien just fine. He was used to seeing things other people couldn't.

Sighing, Mirabelle rested one elbow on her knee, casting cerulean gaze out across the town as she frowned slightly. Boring, but that wasn't anything unusual for the human world, at least in her opinion. People couldn't generally see her, she had to deal with the occasional annoying shinigami, not to mention all the other inconveniences that had sprung up lately with that damned ex-shinigami trying to take over what rightfully belonged to _her_ kind. All those things rolled up together made the human world, specifically Karakura, a place she would have preferred to avoid. In fact, the only reason why she bothered to come here at all was because, catch-22 though it was, the ridiculously high amounts of spiritual energy in this town -- from all the shinigami and their ilk -- also had the side effect of drawing more Hollows to this place, which meant she didn't have to bust her ass as hard to get a decent meal.

It wasn't as though she were going to eat shinigami, they were just fun to play with, objects for her to taunt and tease and amuse herself with. It was part of the game, part of the _deal_ that she'd made -- though it was more unspoken than anything -- with one nosy shopkeeper that she knew perfectly well hadn't always lived such a humble existence. Not that she really cared. It just meant that she kept to the same code she'd always kept to -- that of not harming any shinigami that didn't try to harm _her_ first -- and Urahara Kisuke would occasionally "misplace" a shipment of those fake souls. Not as filling, but good for a snack here and there.

Glancing around as she tested the reiatsu of the area, picking out strong spots and weak patches -- she knew perfectly well what shinigami made this place their common wandering ground -- her eyes caught the figure of a small boy, bright orange hair standing out against the sidewalk. It wasn't his hair that really made her notice him, despite the fact that it was almost ridiculously brilliant, it was the way his violet eyes were focused on her. It wasn't the stare of a child who was simply staring off into space dazedly, imagining pictures of knights or dragons or whatever the hell it was that human kids thought about. No... she was relatively certain that _this_ kid... could _see_ her. Which, in itself, didn't necessarily make sense.

Kaien watched as the woman -- an arrancar, he knew what she was even if he'd never actually _seen_ one -- seemed almost to sniff the air, as though she were testing the atmosphere itself, before eyes the colour of a summer's sky settled on him with a curiously perplexed look. One hand rested on the hilt of her zanpakutou as the other reached up to tuck a strand of cornsilk hair behind her ear. He could hear Kaien-with-black-hair whisper to him in the back of his mind, promising support should the attack come, but her demeanor wasn't threatening in any way.

There was no mistaking it, the kid could definitely see her, and more than that he didn't seem phased by her appearance in the slightest, which just didn't make sense at all. Normal human children, even those who could see spirits -- she was well aware that such humans existed, though they weren't supposed to be very common -- would have still likely reacted differently to a person coming seemingly out of thin air. Cocking her head to one side, she shook her head slightly with a smirk and nodded towards the little boy.

"You can see me, can't you kid?"

Her question was rewarded with a simple nod, the boy's bright violet eyes remaining fixed on her with a look of some interest. It was confusing. She could sense his reiatsu, and strange though it was, the kid was definitely human. Pursing her lips slightly, she studied him. She wasn't that good at gaging a human's age, they weren't like shinigami whose age hardly had much to do with their physical appearance. Either way, the kid was young. That much she could gather. Raising an eyebrow, she ventured another question to the boy.

"So, if you can see me, does that mean you know what I am?"

She'd expected the more "typical" answer. Ghost, spirit, angel, demon, the Boogey-man. All of the sorts of stories that children believed, she'd been called so many fantastical things that it was hard to keep count of the myriad. What she was _not_ expecting was the simple, straightforward answer she got from his childish voice as he nodded and picked up the ball resting on the ground in front of him.

"You're an Arrancar."

Well, _that_ was a new one. Blond eyebrows nearly hit her hairline before cornflower eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him closer. He didn't _look_ threatening, but she'd seen plenty of shinigami who seemed harmless; enough to know that they seldom were so when it really came down to it. Tightening one hand slightly around the hilt of her zanpakutou, she measured him up in her mind. Orange hair, violet eyes, childish features that, in spite of the softness of childhood, gave the promise of sharper angles and lines as he grew. There was something almost _familiar_ about the kid, despite the fact that she knew perfectly well she'd never seen him before.

"Yeah... That's right, kid, but I sure didn't expect you to know that."

Nodding at him, she resettled herself on the eave of the roof.

"What's your name, kid?"

He stared at her for a moment, as though considering. His mother had told him, like all mothers did, not to talk to strangers. However, she'd failed to mention whether an Arrancar counted as a stranger. And seeing as she never seemed to mind much when he told his name to the ghostly children that he could occasionally encounter during their trips to the park, it was a simple matter to log this encounter with those other ones. Cocking his head slightly, he smiled up at the Arrancar with a nod.

"Kurosaki Kaien. What's yours?"

Mirabelle's eyes widened at the child's words. _Kurosaki_. No wonder the kid had looked familiar, even if that sense had been based more on word-of-mouth and hearsay than any sort of actual encounter. Every denizen of Hueco Mundo, at least the ones intelligent enough to care, knew about the human who had traveled into their territory, of the battle with Aizen Sousuke's ilk. Just as those who paid attention knew the other goings-on of the worlds. Knew that one Kurosaki Ichigo, a human -- a substitute shinigami, however the hell _that_ worked -- had fought alongside the shinigami of the Gotei-13, and had ultimately been made a captain of one of the divisions that the usurping traitors left behind. But... that wasn't _all_ she'd heard.

"Wait a minute. So you're the strawberry's kid, huh? Then that means... that you're a _Vaizard_. Right?"

It would make sense, given what she'd heard about Kurosaki Ichigo and his mask, that the son would have inherited the talent as well. Vaizard... almost like a foil to her own nature, a different sort of blending of Hollow and shinigami. It was interesting, not to mention amusing, that a child like this would react to her thusly. She watched, slightly curious as the boy's eyes brightened and he nodded with a smile before those same violet orbs shifted to black and green with a flare of reiatsu and the white bone curved over his face for a moment before sliding back. One eyebrow raised in appraisal of Kaien. The kid had potential, that much was obvious. Mirabelle didn't necessarily know that much about Vaizard, but she at least knew enough to know that it took a considerable amount of talent -- or at least _something_ -- for one of them to be able to use their mask so easily like that. It was supposed to be something that took training, that took time. For a kid as young as he looked to have such ease with it...

Settling back onto the eave of the roof, she threw back her head and let out a howl of laughter, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to the boy.

"I like you, kid. You've got potential. What say I show you a couple of things, huh?"

She didn't really expect him to take her up on the offer, hell he was still a kid and kids were inherent scaredy cats. That being the case, it took a few moments for it to sink in that he'd perked up at that, and was now focused rather intently on her, a hopeful look in his shifting eyes.

"You... you'll play with me? Really? And.... I can play with my mask? And... not get in trouble?"

Was the kid serious? Play? She was an Arrancar, she didn't "play". But, she'd offered, and the kid was amusing. It couldn't hurt, she supposed. Hopping down to land lightly on the pavement next to him, she shrugged her shoulders. What harm was there? Besides... it might give her a good chance to get a better idea of just what the hell those masked ones could do. Reaching out hesitantly -- she didn't usually touch humans, and her touches in general didn't always qualify as "gentle", she ran fingers through his messy orange locks.

"Sure kid. Why not?"


	7. Foolish Games

Title: Foolish Games  
Fandom: Bleach  
Characters: Hirako Shinji II  
Theme: Play  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: While Bleach belongs to the wonderful and awesome Kubo-sensei, Shinji Jr. is mine. Don't steal him, or he'll come and kill you in your sleep. And he'll let Hiyourin help.

It's always a game to him, despite what others say about it, about how he should take things more seriously, about how he shouldn't be so reckless. At least, they say that until he calmly reminds them, in that drawling voice so like his father's, that not only is he not in any real danger, but that just because he chooses to do things in an unconventional manner it doesn't mean he still didn't graduate at the top of his class, outstripping most of them.

They don't generally like that, not just because they don't like to be reminded of their own shortcomings, but because when Shinji says things like that, it just reminds them of who he is. Of who's son he is, and beyond that, of _what_ he is. A Vaizard. Like his sister. Like his parents. Only, in so many ways, they say that this Shinji is even more dangerous than his father ever was, and it's because of his attitude. Because of the way he is alike yet different than either of his parents, of how his lackluster and oft-disinterested persona hides a mind of unbelievable cunning with the potential for deceptions and twists beyond even what his father might have once come up with.

There are some who even say he reminds them of Aizen.

As for Shinji, he doesn't really care either way. After all, it's just play. Just a game, a play of cat and mouse, just like so many other things in life. Not because he's cruel -- he is, at times -- or because there is something inherently wrong with him -- _they_ might disagree -- but simply because Shinji doesn't believe that a life lived halfway is a life worth living. Of what use is a mind if you don't use it to it's fullest. And in that sense, as he is one of their greatest sources of concern, he is also one of their greatest strategists, his limber and agile mind easily working circles around the best that they have to offer, until they can't deny that -- Vaizard though he is -- he has them all beat.

It's why Seireitei tries so hard to keep reins on him, despite his ease in throwing them off and going his own way. Like his mother, a part of V-Div and yet an independent, in spite of everything they try, and everything they demand. But then, he can warn them off easily enough, though his warning is always different than Hiyori's, more based on calculated risks and cheques and balances.

It unnerves his father, at times, the degree of cunning that his namesake -- and the spitting image of himself as a youth -- can come up with, seemingly unbidden, or the degree of calculated malice that can develop from it. Only, malice isn't really even the right word for it, because that would suggest that the younger Hirako is a cruel person by nature, which he isn't. He's simply calculating, brutal even, in the face of battle. Willing to make the sort of choices that most men shy away from, the sorts of choices that cost a life yet save so many more.

The sorts of choices that make one a brilliant leader.

Only, to Shinji it's still just a game. Cat and mouse, played between him and the Hollow, his mouth drawn into a wide grin eerily similar to the parent who gave it to him, chuckling slightly as he shrugs his long tail of blond hair over his shoulder and tosses his hat aside to raise an eyebrow at the Hollow, who is looking at him in a mix of astonishment and horror -- no doubt due to the shock of seeing what it assumed was a normal soul pulling out a zanpakutou -- as he peels the fake inga-no-kusari off of his chest with an almost cruel grin.

It's really not fair, the way he plays with them. The way he takes advantage of his cunning, luring them in with the promise of a good meal, deigning to even don shihakushou and preferring instead to simply take up the guise of a normal soul. Wandering around in the gigai he prefers, or even going so far as to discard it and wander as a shinigami, dressed in the garb of a typical soul with that fake chain his "uncle" gave him as a joke taped to his chest. But then, that's Shinji's style, after all. Cunning, calculation... and an almost twisted sense of glee at watching them fall into his trap, at seeing their shock as the curved fish-hook of his blade cleaves them easily in two.

But then, so few things in life are fair.

Or at least, that's Shinji's reasoning as he cleans the blood off of his blade and reseals it before working the kidou he uses to keep it in the form of an innocuous pocketknife. Afterall, what helpless little soul wanders around carrying a zanpakutou?


	8. Number One Crush

Title: Number One Crush  
Fandom: Bleach  
Character/Pairing: Kurosaki Renji x Ishida Hanako  
Rating: G  
Prompt/Theme: Crush  
Disclaimer: Bleach doesn't belong to me. It, and it's characters, belong to Kubo Tite. However, both Kurosaki Renji and Ishida Hanako ARE mine.

Closing her eyes, the little girl in the crimson-hued coat took a deep, shaky breath, clenching her baby-blue gloved hands tighter around the folded blue wool. Squeezing gray eyes closed, she puffed her cheeks and blew it out slowly, repeating her mental mantra. She shouldn't be afraid, she was a Quincy and Quincy's were brave and fearless. They defeated Hollows and stood against the vain and selfish shinigami. Or at least, that was what her father said. Ishida Hanako herself thought that Hollows were terrifying things, and that the shinigami she knew all seemed like nice, agreeable people. But then, she was only 10, so maybe she just didn't know yet.

Shaking her head, long snow-flecked brown hair sliding over her shoulders, Hanako pursed her lips, scrunching up her face into an almost scowl. Maybe that would work. After all, Uncle Ichigo always scowled, and he wasn't afraid of _anything_. Except maybe Aunt Rukia. But even then, maybe the scowl worked like some sort of armour. Mentally she pictured her 'uncle's' familiar orange-haired face, and superimposed his mask over it. Yes, that was right. Like armour. She watched, in an almost detached way, as the picture in her mind shifted, the mask's colour changing as it turned into something more like the armoured helms that knights wore in fairy stories. Only.... Uncle Ichigo wouldn't have been a normal knight, and calling him 'Sir Ichigo' only served to turn his head into a plump red strawberry. Uncle Strawberry, who reached out creepy vine arms, and then-

She let out a squeak, shaking her head to dispel the strangely disturbing image. That was weird... she'd have to tell her mother about it. Her mother always seemed to understand those sorts of things better. Shifting small feet in their pristine white boots with the blue ribbon trim on them -- she liked blue, and the ribbons matched the ones in her hair and the stones in her hair-clips -- Hanako glanced again at the big wooden door with it's slightly faded steel gray paint. It still sat silent at the end of the sidewalk, the usual mesh of bodies going in and out conspicuously absent. Which made sense, seeing as it was a Saturday and there were very few kids who went to school on Saturday, Renji was the exception and that was only because of kendo and even then-. Shaking her head, she chewed on her lower lip. She was rambling again, whatever rambling actually meant, but she thought it had something to do with letting her mind wander, and while that was sometimes enjoyable, her father said it wasn't always a good thing and that she should-.

Her most recent bout of rambling was broken by the creak as the door finally swung open and a dozen or so kids her age spilled out, most of them boys and all of them talking rather loudly and animatedly. Hanako felt her eyes widen and her cheeks grow warm as she easily picked out the familiar figure of Kurosaki Renji in his green jacket among them, coppery eyes bright below black bangs as he responded to a joke one of the other boys had made. With a gasp and a small eep, she ducked back behind the comforting brick corner of the other building, gulping to keep from hyperventilating as she clutched the blue plaid to her chest. She hadn't thought about how there would be other people there, about how Renji still went to normal school, unlike his older siblings who were home-schooled now that they were learning to be shinigami.

She could hear him coming closer, his voice growing louder as the cluster of boys approached, and she closed her eyes tight, counting in her head -- her mother had said it worked, that you could count anything, and that she liked to count the clouds in the sky and then pretend they were huge puffs of smoke, except sometimes then the smoke would turn to fire and the town would be burning down and it would be all her fault and -- Before she could take another moment to be indecisive, Hanako darted out from behind the corner, skidding to a stop in front of Renji, who stopped short and stared at her for a moment before grinning like he always did, flecks of winter snow clinging to his dark ponytail.

"Hi Hanako!"

"H...H...Hi!"

Her voice came out as a squeak, which didn't make much sense because Renji was her friend and she'd certainly told him 'hi' before with no problems. Either way, it didn't seem to bother Renji, who simply stood there expectantly, his head cocked to the side, good-natured smile on his 10-year old face. Swallowing past the butterflies in her stomach -- they would be blue butterflies, because she liked them, or maybe they should be black, for the jigokuchou, because Renji was a shinigami, or at least he _would_ be when he got older and shinigami used jigokuchou as messengers -- she thrust the bundled wool at him, nearly dropping the plaid scarf in the process.

"Thisisforyou!"

And again, her voice came out in a rushed and high-pitched squeak as she stared at the ground, cheeks burning and heart racing. Renji stared at the scarf for a moment before grinning widely and taking the length of pale blue patterned wool from her hands.

"Thanks, Hanako!"

He easily draped the scarf around his neck and shoulders, adjusting it against the cold, before turning orange-hued eyes back to her with an apologetic expression.

"It's really nice, but I feel bad because I don't have anything for you."

She shook her head so hard her braids snapped like whips, eliciting a startled yelp of pain as one long plait of hair cracked across her face. Rubbing the injured spot with a slight whimper, she shook her head again.

"No, no, no... it's ok. Really."

Renji considered that for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders with a quick shake of his head. It wasn't nice to have a girl get you a present and not get her anything in return, even if she was a friend like Hanako -- his mother would have said _especially_ if she was a friend -- but if it was a big deal to Hanako, then he supposed it was ok. Taking hands out of his pockets, he gave her a quick hug.

"It's ok, Hanako. I'll find something good for you too, but I've gotta go home now. I'll see you on Monday!"

Her eyes widened as large as saucers, the flush on her cheeks spreading to her entire face as he hugged her, biting her lip against the startled yelp of surprise. Frozen, she watched as Renji pulled back and smiled before waving and darting off past her, jogging down the path towards home. As his footsteps faded, she found herself still staring at the ground for a long moment as she caught her breath with a little smile, hugging her arms around herself before turning and running home.


	9. Scents of Fear

Title: Scents of Fear  
Rating: PG  
Fandom: Bleach  
Characters: Kurosaki Kaien, Kurosaki Renji  
Theme/Prompt: Fear  
Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters do not belong to me. However, Kaien and Renji (Kurosaki, not Abarai) do.

Panting, he felt the sword's point grow heavier as the etched black blade dipped lower, it's tip dropping into the sand with a muffled thunk as one hand came up to rub across his forehead, wiping the sweat away. Hueco Mundo was a hellish place at times, and most definitely not his location of choice, but when it came to training -- especially with Kaien -- there wasn't much that could be said for dissuading his brother, especially when Kaien dug in his heels and leaned back on that well-known Kurosaki stubbornness.

Besides, Kaien spent enough time wandering the rock-scattered dunes to know the best spots. "Best spots" being the places where they were least likely to attract attention of the wrong sort. At least, that's what Renji hoped, given that he himself didn't think it particularly a good idea to wander around leaking Hollow reiatsu -- not to mention his _shinigami_ reiatsu -- in the Hollows' backyard. But if his brother could do it, so could he. And the parched white dunes were the perfect place to hide from the critical eyes of the rest of the division.

Growling slightly under his breath, Renji fixed angry copper-hued eyes on the taller figure standing a few feet away, Kaien's black-garbed figure blurring slightly in the blistering haze of the desert sun as his brother sighed audibly, Yamibari's slim deadliness resting lightly across one shoulder, the blood-red tassel swaying slightly in the wind as the noonday sun glinted off the armoured guard on his shoulder.

Raking his own dark bangs from his eyes, the younger Kurosaki gritted his teeth at the expression on his brother's face. So damned superior all the fucking time, and to top it off, Kaien didn't even _understand_. It wasn't _Kaien_ who was standing here, hands blistered from friction, lip bloody from the concentration required just to keep his control over the raging voice in the back of his head. Not the orange-haired elder brother standing, blue and white academy uniform dark with sweat and stained with dirt and blood.

No, his elder brother was cool as a cucumber, standing there with his weight resting on one foot, gloved hand hooked into the ties of his hakama as he tapped the long black katana against one shoulder, orange head cocked to one side, eyes glinting black and green with his Hollow's influence.

With a heave and a grunt, Renji lifted the weight of his own zanpakutou, hefting the broadsword into the air in front of him, mentally pushing and tensing against the surge of angry reiatsu he could feel welling up from that voice in his head, that voice that screeched with malicious laughter at his -- in it's opinion -- feeble attempts to push it back.

Of course Kaien didn't understand. If he _had_, then those violet eyes wouldn't be watching Renji struggle with their look of mild frustration. Frustration at the brother who couldn't just get it together, the brother who -- unlike _him_ -- didn't have some sort of eerie symbiosis with something that, by all rights, shouldn't have existed in the first place.

Kaien hadn't ever had to work like this -- hell, as far as Renji was concerned, his elder brother had never had to really _work_ for much of ANYTHING in his life -- so he couldn't possibly conceive of the difficulty, the effort involved. But above all of that... Kaien couldn't understand the _fear_. The constant terror that dwelt in the back of your mind, the constant worry and concern that one day, when you pulled that bone-white visage over your face, all that made you _you_ would wash away like soap bubbles in the rain, and the only thing left would be the demonic grinning face staring back at you.

It was the type of fear his father understood. The sort of fear that Hisana understood, she who feared her own hollow perhaps more than Renji feared his. But not Kaien. Not Masaki, or Hiyourin, or even Shinji. They'd all been born Vaizard, so it wasn't as though THAT had anything to do with it. No, the rest of his peers, those who understood what it was like to have an other-self lurking in the shadows of your mind, they didn't share his fears. And why should they? They had control, they had poise and confidence that he lacked. To them, the Hollow was just a tool, another thing to be used for their own ends, the same as kidou or their zanpakutou.

Kaien was really the only difference, and that just made things even more difficult. Biting back a growl of anger as he felt himself pushed backwards further by Yamibari, the nodachi's long black steel length seeming to effortlessly bat aside the much heavier weight of his own shikai -- at least he'd managed to stay in shikai this time without the Hollow taking over -- he muffled a very Rukia-like curse as he felt the surge, sensed the shift as his eyes began to turn, glaring back at Kaien's green and black orbs staring calmly back at him from a face that wasn't even wearing a mask.

Unfair, unfair and frightening, to know that, were their situations reversed and the changed eyes his own, things wouldn't be nearly so simple. That while Kaien could easily and without hardly any effort draw on his Hollow's power even to simply satisfy a whim to change his eyes into their eerie other state, he himself could barely maintain the control needed to _train_ with his mask on.

Letting loose a snarl of frustration and giving in to his own anger, Renji felt the reiatsu press, the creep of the cool bone as it swept up his face, the darkening of his own vision for a moment before it sharpened into the heightened senses of the Hollow. Still in control, still the one calling the shots. He watched as Kaien backed up, the older boy calculating, black and green eyes shifting slightly as his own mask slid seamlessly down to cover his face, Yamibari held at the ready.

The seconds ticked by as they fought. Four. Five. Six. Halfway to seven before he felt it, felt the mirror break as the Hollow gave a scream of rage, the black surging over his vision, mouth opening wide into a cero. And there was the fear, the raw terror as he felt it claw it's way up, pulling him down into that darkness for a moment until he could beat it back, pull his way into the light again.

The mask cracked as he dropped to his knees in the sand, bloodied and blistered hands burying themselves in the gritty white silica as he gasped for breath, fought the bile rising in his throat as he reminded himself that it hadn't happened, the _thing_ in his soul hadn't won, and he was still _himself_; Kurosaki Renji.

Curling fingers tightly, feeling the grit rub against the raw skin, he clenched his teeth together as he heard the soft impact of waraji against sand, registered the approach of Kaien's taller form before his brother's shadow fell over him. Ironic, really. Tilting his head upward, he glared up at the other shinigami, flame-hued eyes boring into black and green as Kaien simply stared down at him with an expression bordering on boredom.

No.... his brother really _didn't_ understand. But that didn't matter, or at least that's what he told himself as he pushed off from the sand, lurching back to his feet. One day, Renji would wipe that arrogant expression off of Kaien's face and then, _then_.... he'd show his brother that there really _was_ something to be afraid of.


	10. Links of Copper

Title: Links of Copper  
Fandom: Bleach  
Characters: Kurosaki Renji, Ishida Hanako  
Theme: Copper  
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me, but Hanako and Renji are and I will hunt you down if you steal them. Srsly.

The pop of the pellet gun cracked through the air with an echoing bang, loud in spite of the surrounding cacophony that was a staple of any carnival. Nearly as loud was Hanako's squeal of glee, the high-pitched sound accompanied by the girl's enthusiastic clapping. Renji rolled his eyes slightly with a long-suffering laugh as he settled the rifle back onto the counter, mindful of the cabled chain linking it to it's place. Turning, he regarded his shorter companion with a wry grin.

"Hana, I didn't even _hit _it, you know."

The brunette shook her head vigorously, twin braids snapping like whips as she bounced on the balls of her feet, small hands fisted in excitement.

"But you still did really good, Renji!"

The youngest Kurosaki brother laughed, shrugging his shoulder slightly as he shoved hands back into his pockets. Sometimes it was a nice, refreshing thing that Ishida Hanako got so excited over something so simple. Other times, he couldn't help but laugh and roll his eyes slightly. But then, Hanako had always been like that, ever since he could remember. The youngest Quincy took after her mother, a cheery and smiling ray of sunshine flashing unbidden through the lives of everyone around her. It was a rare instance when a case of the doldrums couldn't be remedied by a twinkling flash of Hanako's grey eyes and an explosion of giggling laughter.

They'd been friends since before Renji could even recall, owing mostly to the close bond between their parents. Orihime and Rukia, despite their outward appearance of being polar opposites, were extremely close friends. In fact, Renji had heard his father remark on more than one occasion that the most frightening thing in either of the two worlds was when Kurosaki Rukia joined one of Ishida Orihime's 'girl-bonding days'.

His father invariably muttered it under his breath when his mother got ready to go, which inevitably led to her kicking him in the shins the same way Masaki always kicked Kaien. That would, in turn, lead to shouting on the part of his father, followed by bickering and yelling that would culminate in his mother grabbing his father by the front of his shirt and snarling that she was going and he could shut up about it, before she yanked him down to her level for a kiss. Having seen the slight grin on his father's face afterwards on occasion, Renji couldn't help but wonder if Ichigo didn't do it on purpose.

Tossing his head to shake longish black bangs from his eyes, Renji cocked his head to the side and watched Hanako as the girl squealed in delight over the stuffed animals at one of the other booths. It was almost like watching a scene from their younger days, so similar was it to innumerable times he'd watched his best friend's reaction when confronted by a plethora of plush coloured softness. Long brown hair streaming down the back of her blue - he sometimes wondered if Hanako owned anything that wasn't blue, white, or grey - coat as she clapped her hands together with a joyful exclamation over every button-eyed little face.

"Hana, come on! Let's get something to eat."

Glancing up with a smile and a nod, she darted easily over to him, stopping a foot or so beside him. He fought the urge to sigh and roll his eyes again as she seemed to catch herself before grabbing his arm and twining hers around, cheeks flushed slightly and eyes averted. Hanako had always been like that, it seemed, always easily flustered and prone to bouts of startled rambling. It was one of the things he liked about her, one of the things that was always fun and amusing and he couldn't deny that he was glad it hadn't changed as they'd gotten older. He'd grown up himself, not as tall as his lanky older brother, but broader and heavier-set - something he was secretly glad of - and at nearly seventeen, even he could note the marked resemblance between himself and his paternal grandfather.

The changes in Hanako seemed more marked in some ways, the pudgy little bight-eyed child she'd been a sometimes stark contrast to the apparently-composed young woman in her white and blue. At least... until she tripped, and it was back to the wild flurry of apologies and tumbling words and insecurities. None of which bothered Renji in the slightest. Hanako was his best friend, she always had been, and he honestly couldn't picture anyone else as the one he talked to, the one he confided in.

Which made her seeming embarrassment around him frankly confusing.

Their trip to the carnival hadn't started out as what looked suspiciously - to other people, he thought they were mental - like a date, despite it's current appearance. People always seemed to think he and Hanako were dating, and while it didn't really grate on his nerves, it seemed to distress her. Which had been why he'd bloodied Yuusuke's nose the first - and only - time the blond teased them about it.

Tonight marked the first time in awhile that those people he heard his father affectionately refer to as 'the old gang of nakama' had all gotten together with the purpose of simply enjoying each other's company. No fighting, no hollows, just... fellowship. It had been his family, Hanako's family, Yuusuke and his uncle Kisuke, Sado, Tatsuki, even Hiyourin's family and his uncle Renji had shown up. The only conspicuously absent face had been his Uncle Byakuya, and as far as Renji was concerned, that was fine with him.

Yet somewhere between his father getting into an almost-brawl with the uncle Renji himself was named for; and his mother getting that scary look on her face as she'd advanced towards the Chappy-themed booth with Masaki in tow he'd realized that they'd all somewhat paired off. His father and Hanako's father had followed along behind their respective wives, both with long-suffering looks on their faces - his father's far more pronounced - as they found themselves weighted down with parcels.

Chad and Tatsuki had wandered off towards the strong-arm contest booth, shepherded along by Tatsuki's echoing talk of how she was going to make a bundle. Urahara and the ever-present Tessai had melted into the crowds, the former making insinuating comments at Jinta and Ururu, the taller of whom launched loud red-faced protests. Yuusuke had, to her startled surprise, asked Renji's flustered older sister to accompany him. Hisana had turned crimson and simply allowed herself to be led towards the rides. Summarily deprived of both Hisana and Yuusuke's company, Masaki had latched onto the unwilling figure of Souken and demanded he keep her company, in spite of the older Quincy's protests. Hiyori had dragged Shinji off towards the food stalls, sandal brandished in her hand.

The only odd ones out were the younger Shinji, who was a loner to begin with, and his uncle Renji, who followed along after Ichigo's group. Even his own oft-antisocial brother had contributed, silencing a complaining Hiyourin with a sudden and unexpected kiss before simply taking the stunned blond girl's hand and leading her off.

That one had stung slightly, but he'd realized a year ago that his crush on Hirako Hiyourin was just that; a crush. A momentary infatuation borne as much out of regard for Hiyourin herself as from a desire to surpass his brother, whom she adored. Either way, the group's splitting up had left him and Hanako alone, so he'd simply done what he'd always done, and grabbed her hand to lead her towards other venues.

It had been an enjoyable evening, and by the time the sun had sunk below the horizon and heralded the multicoloured explosion of lighted lanterns, they had ridden nearly every ride, and played nearly every game. Hanako's long braids were slightly frizzed from whipping around her head on the roller coaster - not that she hadn't squealed with glee as it went upside down - and she was munching contentedly on her blue and purple puff of cotton candy as they walked, a plethora of stuffed animals and other favours tucked beneath the arm of her white sweater.

He himself was carrying the more unwieldy objects - the 4-foot tall purple stuffed gorilla, the enormous bag of taffy candy, and the huge inflatable sun-bonnet - as well as the intricately painted water balloons and the 3 goldfish in their small bags. Gaze focused more on negotiating the crowd of people with as little collateral damage as possible, Renji nearly tripped as a small, slightly sticky hand caught his sleeve.

"Geez, Hana, don't do that! You'll make me drop everything!"

As soon as he said it, he mentally scolded himself for snapping at her. Hanako was an extremely sensitive girl, and criticism from him always hit her harder. But as he maneuvered himself around to see what had caught her attention, there was no heralding of tears. In fact, her grey eyes were focused in rapt wonder at one of the other booths. Well, not exactly at the booth itself, but at the display of sparkling, multi-coloured jewelry standing next to it.

There was no need to ask, the awestruck way she was gazing at it was plain to see. Besides... girls liked pretty things, right? Shifting the larger things he was carrying, he stepped over to her, orange eyes sizing up the game that went along with the display, stifling the grin as he did so. It was too perfect; one of those things where you had to hit the metal plate at the bottom and send the weight up to strike the bell.

_Perfect..._

He'd always liked his shikai, the rune-covered black blade with it's heavy width and imposing length, and he'd always enjoyed the fact that hefting that hunk of metal gave the added benefit of more strength than even his stocky frame belied. Handing off the lighter things to Hanako, he set the giant plushies down and passed a few coins to the vendor. Stepping over towards it, he reached down and picked up the hammer, testing it's weight as he grinned at Hanako.

"Pick out the one you want, Hana!"

With a laugh, he swung the mallet down towards the target, stepping back to watch as the weight soared up to slam into the bell with a resounding clang that echoed over the cheers of the crowd. Hanako squealed in delight, bouncing up and down as she clapped her hands together, parcels and prizes forgotten in an abandoned heap at her feet - Renji took a moment to be mentally thankful he'd set the goldfish down with HIS stuff - as she dashed over to look at the wide assortment of trinkets. As he gathered up his armful of prizes, she made her selection and happily took the bracelet from the vendor, slipping the simple linked chain around her wrist.

"So... why the copper one, Hana? Wouldn't you rather get something nicer?"

The dark-haired shinigami frowned slightly as he studied her new bracelet, coppery eyes tracing over the diamond-shaped links with their delicate tracery of geometric etching on them. It was pretty, no doubt, but it still seemed rather plain in comparison to some of the gem-studded and more ornate things she could have chosen. Not to mention, just the fact that it was copper, instead of gold or silver, was strange in his opinion.

Clutching her hand close to her chest with a happy smile, she shook her head.

"I like this one because it's the same colour as Renji's eyes..."

Her voice was quiet, wistful. Almost as though not aware that she was speaking out loud. Something about the tone of her voice was different, and Renji felt his stomach knot up and his cheeks warm as he stopped, staring at her.

"Wh...Hana...?"

As though just suddenly realizing what she'd said, Hanako's eyes widened impossibly and she devolved into a flurry of red-faced sputtering, playing her fingertips across the links of the bracelet.

"I... that is... I mean..."

She swallowed, biting her lip as her eyes began to tear up slightly.

"R...Renji's my favourite...and...and..."

And suddenly it all made sense. The way she'd been acting, the way her voice always shook when she spoke to him, even how she could never seem to meet his gaze for long. He could feel his cheeks warm as he thought back to all the times he'd teased her for her shyness, laughing at the way her face reddened and she cut her eyes sidelong at him, white teeth gripping her lower lip as though she wanted to say something that she couldn't get out. Hanako...liked him. Maybe even... loved him. And he'd just been so oblivious the entire time to what was right in front of his eyes. Renji inwardly cursed himself for it as he tried to think back to when it must have first started, ashamed to acknowledge the likelihood that she'd probably harboured feelings for him for quite some time and simply...never spoken up.

_God... I'm such an idiot..._

Anger joined the shame, anger not at her, but at himself. How many times had he filled her ears with his complaints, his wistful yearnings for Hiyourin's notice, for the things his brother had so easily? How many afternoons had they spent together sitting on a hillside or wandering the shops in town while he droned and rambled on about his troubles or his problems and she listened as silently and raptly as though he were imparting the secrets of the universe to her. How it must have hurt her...

Swallowing, Renji raised a shaking hand to clumsily tuck a stray strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear. Hanako's eyes widened, tears brimming at the corners as though she were expecting nothing but the rejection, the - what must have been obvious to her - revelation that she was merely a friend, that her feelings were trivial or misplaced or even just a 'Sorry, Hana, but I can't see you as anything but my best friend.' The slight glisten of fear and trepidation in her eyes cut deep, but it did more than that. His own heartbeat quickening, for the first time he could ever remember, Renji looked _at _her.

And didn't see his best friend.

What he saw instead, was a sixteen year old young woman with long chocolate-brown hair and big grey eyes set into a perfect heart-shaped face. A girl standing on trembling legs, gloved hands clasped beneath her chin, every line of her body drawn with nerves and tension and hope. He saw the way her cheeks flushed from the cold but also from her proximity to him, and the way her face seemed to lean unconsciously towards his hand as it lingered by her jawline. And in her eyes... he saw everything. Everything she wanted, everything she treasured, and everything he'd never bothered to stop and notice that _he _wanted as well.

He saw the one he had treasured most all along.

Renji had never been much of one for words. Sure, he was better at it than his brother, yet another fact that he felt inwardly proud of, but he was no poet to spout lovely words and thoughts and feelings. Catching lower lip in his teeth for just a moment, the black-haired shinigami sucked in a quick breath and hesitantly closed the distance between them to brush lips softly against hers. He heard and felt Hanako's startled gasp as she tensed for one second, two seconds...and then relaxed into the kiss, tentatively pressing lips back against his as her fingers slowly unclenched from each other. Taking her acceptance as initiative, the teen gently cupped her face in his hands as he deepened the kiss slightly for another moment or two before pulling back to meet her shining, tear-filled gaze. Hanako opened her mouth to say something, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips.

"Hana... I'm so sorry. I was so busy looking for something else... that I never noticed what I already had. Can you forgive me?"

The girl's face broke into a smile as she sniffled and wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. Even still, more tears kept coming and the only response that Hanako could make was to nod before burying face into the front of his shirt. Startled at first, Renji simply sighed, shaking his head with a soft chuckle and wrapping arms around her to rock her gently. There would be time enough later to figure things out more. Right now...this was enough.


End file.
